Nightmares
by tmntfan4eva
Summary: Lightning flashes and thunder roars. It only makes everything ten times worse as nightmares eat him alive. If only there was someone he could go to, someone who would understand. But Rick could never do that, never be the person Morty needs. Fortunately that doesn't keep Morty from trying anyway.


**I should have been working on my ongoing tmnt story, but of course I have the attention span of a gnat and ended up switching gears completely. I was inspired by a post on tumblr and if you frequent the Rick and Morty tag there you probably know which one I'm referring to or should by the end. Anyway, enjoy!**

Lightning flashes and thunder crashes within seconds of each other. Morty's heart leaps into his throat and he jolts upright. His brow gleams with sweat and his breathing comes erratic. He clutches desperately at the sheets around him, balling the section at his chest into a tight knot. He trembles noticeably and ducks his head, making himself as small as possible.

Another flash and an instantaneous boom of thunder. Morty jumps and sucks in a sharp breath. A soft whimper slips past his lips and he rolls over onto his side. He curls in on himself, his shivers turning to convulsions. _Why tonight?_ Why when even the night is restless? How is he supposed to find peace like this? His throat tightens and his breaths come out in shudders. He digs his fingers deeper into the sheets at his chest, very nearly able to feel his nails against his skin through the covers.

He misses the flash, but he hears the thunder loud and clear. He yelps and tumbles over himself. He flips over the bed and crashes into the table, his head jolting back and slamming against the metal frame supporting the bed. His ears ring and head pounds. He moans and slumps down across the length of the floor. Tears itch at his eyes and he isn't sure if it is from the splitting pain of his temple or if it is from reliving one of the worst moments of his life so many months after it was over, after he was sure he was over it.

A sob bubbles in his throat and he slowly lifts his hands to cover his face. He's not sure why, it's not like there is anyone here to see, but he does it nonetheless. He bites down hard on his tongue to force down the sobs as much as divert the pain. It barely helps. He just feels both equally now.

He draws in a deep breath and slowly sits up. His hands slip down his face, revealing bloodshot eyes beneath a veil of quickly building tears and lips pulled tight in a grimace. _He can't do this alone._ There's no way. He casts his eyes down and sighs softly. But who is he supposed to go to? No one would understand. He snaps his head up and his eyes widen. _Except maybe one person._ His heart flutters in hope carefully tempered with uncertainty. Maybe, if Morty's lucky. If he's right about that day all those months ago.

Another clash of thunder sends a shiver up his spine. He shakes his head fiercely, shakes his head to rid himself at the very least of the shock. Quickly he pushes himself up to his feet and shuffles out of his room, into a belly of darkness. No windows line the hall and he can't even see his hands in front of his face, but he doesn't need to. Each step is carefully placed, movements made of memory.

He pauses, mechanically lifts an arm and reaches out to his side. His fingers brush the doorknob and there are serious doubts. This isn't the room he intended, he knows, but it could be where he goes – _should_ go. But it isn't. He can't. He knows it as powerfully as he knows his deepest fears. His parents aren't there for him, were never there for him. His fingers slip away and he continues on, on until he reaches another door. Still not it. This time, however, he doesn't bother lifting a finger. There's nothing Summer can do. They're closer than ever before, but still, it's not enough.

Morty stops, this time definitively. He shifts his gaze to where the door would be if he could see it. _This is it._ Morty swallows hard and shudders noticeably. Is this really a good an idea? He knows Rick, he knows how much of an asshole he can be for absolutely no reason other than he can. Morty lifts a trembling hand and curls his fingers around the knob, clenching tight. Before any other thoughts can flood his head he pushes.

"Out." Rick's groggy voice says through clenched teeth. He throws an arm over his eyes as if to block out the light even though there is none.

Morty side-glances. He tugs at his sleeve. "R-Rick…" He chews on his lower lip. "I…I…" Can he really say it? It sounds so trivial, silly even to say he had a nightmare. Still, "I…had a n-nightmare."

Rick snorts. "A-Are you kidding me Morty?" He throws his hands in the air. "It was just a dream. It can't hurt you." He shakes his head. "Besides, isn't that something m-mommy or daddy are supposed to fix?" He sighs. "Come on."

Morty cringes and shies away from Rick's harsh judgment. He just barely stifles a whine. He knew this was a bad idea. "No…" His voice is barely a whisper. It's all he can do to hide the tremor in his voice. "They-They wouldn't…understand." No one can really.

"And I can?" Rick rolls over, shoving his face in the pillow. "It's like, five in the morning Morty. Go back to bed."

Morty ducks his head. His lip trembles fiercely. Tears build in his eyes and a tiny moan slips past his lips. He takes a small step back, further into the hallway. He casts his gaze back toward his room – back toward hell. _No._ He won't. He _can't_. A sob issues forth.

Rick's ears prick. He rolls again, over to his back. He lifts his head slightly to try and see the kid. It's too dark. Far too dark. All he can make out is Morty's outline and only faintly. "You cryin'?"

Morty scowls into the darkness. "No." He rubs the back of his arm across his eyes. He inches further from Rick's room, toward the stairs.

Rick narrows his eyes. "Where you think you're going?" Morty might think he's being subtle, but Rick is not stupid. He's moving away, but not back to his own room.

Morty freezes. His eyes widen and he goes rigid. _Why?_ He makes a face at himself. "I have to forget it." He says with surprising steadiness. He takes a long, deep breath in and then out. "I…I can't go back…" Back into the cruel embrace of sleep and back to that bathroom. "I have to make it go away." Drown it. Just like everyone else in this house, just like _you_.

Rick stiffens. A growl swells in in his throat. "Don't even think it." He leans up a little more. "Don't you dare touch my booze." He points his fingers at his own eyes then back in Morty's direction.

Then what?" Morty shrills, his voice cracking. "How-How the hell am I supposed to-supposed to deal with this?" His sobs rise suddenly and choke him. Tears squeeze out from the corner of his eyes and slide down his face. He pinches the bridge of his nose and struggles to hide his shaking. It shouldn't be this damn hard in the dark.

"Geez Morty." Rick raises up all the way. "What the hell did you see that worked you up so badly?" Suddenly he is glad he can't see Morty's face. If he could he fears it would be like looking in a mirror – one of his past self, before he hid the pain beneath layers, before alcohol. _And Morty's almost there too._ Rick shivers faintly. And yet…he came here first.

Morty draws in a sharp breath. He is caught like a deer in the headlights of this horrible question. Alcohol should have been his first choice. He should have never opened the door. At least alcohol doesn't ask questions. It probably, no, **definitely** numbs better than any person could. Especially better than Rick. Still, human touch…it's something he yearns for despite the odds. "_Him._" It's the most he can manage.

Rick's lips part to pry, but he immediately snaps them shut. His eyes widen and his stomach drops. _Him._ It's so vague, yet it tells Rick everything he could possibly need to know. As traumatizing as their adventures are there's only one thing that could warrant all those layers of fear, misery, and most of all shame. So much shame. He feels suddenly sick. "Morty…" His brows knit together and his lips turn down into a sharp frown. _You should've just said so._ No, he should have known. From the moment Morty spoke.

Morty gnashes his lip. He hiccups softly despite the effort to hide the agony. "I-I, just…"

Rick scoots to the edge, up against the wall. "C'mere." He pats the place next to him.

Morty hovers in the doorway. He sways before tilting too far and leaning all his weight against the frame. He curls his fingers around the frame and clutches as if his life depends on it. _This is it._ This is what he wanted. Right? _So why am I hesitating?_ It's Rick. That's a good enough reason for anything. But it's also the only reason he wants to go. Anyone else wouldn't be good enough.

Rick doesn't say a word. He doesn't move in the slightest, doesn't want Morty to feel pressured in any way. He simply keeps his eyes on the space within the outline of his grandson.

Morty releases his anchor and slinks forward. He stops at the foot of the bed, shrinks back even for a moment. His heart jumps into his throat and his breathing becomes rapid. A chill races up his spine and for an instant the darkness shifts. Rick's faint outline twists into a monstrous form.

Rick blinks and his gaze softens as he makes out the terror taking hold of his grandson. "Morty," He says gently. "It's ok."

His grandfather's voice jars him, but it does the trick. It destroys the illusion and the darkness settles into its proper place. Morty nods stiffly. He shuffles the remaining distance and crawls up alongside Rick. Still, he does not move close. He lingers at the edge and eyes Rick warily. He waits for it to break – this fragile moment of understanding.

"It's ok Morty." Not just what happened to the poor kid, but everything. Anything Morty needs right now he can take without fear of after. Rick won't dare hold it against him.

Morty lifts his hand to his mouth and bites the nails. His body aches with the need for something solid, something human and caring. He can't take it anymore. A sob bursts forth and the tears are unleashed. He lurches toward Rick and throws his arms around him, locking his hands behind Rick. He buries his face in Rick's shirt and just lets it all out.

Morty's tears soak through Rick's shirt, but he doesn't complain. He slowly brings his arms up and wraps Morty in a loose hug. "I won't let anyone hurt you." He pats Morty's back rhythmically, in what he hopes is a soothing gesture.

Morty curls further into Rick. His hold slackens and his breaths come easier. The shivers that rattle him ease up and his sobs ebb. Still, one thought stabs him straight through the heart. "I'm so weak." He chokes out. His balls Rick's lab coat up in his fists, squeezing as if it is his own throat, squeezing to punish himself for breaking in front of anyone. He's fourteen. Rick was right. _I'm pathetic._

Rick perks. "What?" He shakes his head. "No, Morty." He draws Morty away from him, so he can see his face at least a little.

Morty stiffens and whines as he is pulled from Rick. No. No! **No!** He reaches desperately for Rick's outline.

Rick hushes Morty and runs his hand once over Morty's hair. As the child relaxes Rick too breathes easier. Slowly he lifts his hands and cups Morty's face. He glides his thumbs across Morty's cheeks, wiping away the tears. "You're one of the strongest people I know." _Stronger than me._ "The things you go through…most people would shatter." Or turn to drugs or alcohol. "So don't ever sell yourself short. You got that?"

Morty nods, the tiniest of movements. "Thank you…grandpa." He wriggles closer, between Rick's arms. He nuzzles into Rick's chest and lets out a heavy breath. "Thank you so much." He sniffles and closes his arms around Rick, this time without desperation.

Rick smiles softly down at Morty. He hugs Morty in return, holding him tight as he leans over and carries them back onto the pillow. "No problem buddy." He rubs Morty's back. "I'd do anything for you."

A smile curves Morty's lips for the first time all night. He yawns and his eyelids flutter. "Love you…"

Rick is silent for a long time. His face creases as he struggles to digest the open affection. Why? Why would Morty even remotely _like_ him? It's partly his fault after all. Everything eating at the poor kid originated with Rick and their adventures. It almost makes Rick angry how much of a doormat his grandson is. _It'd be the only time._

His temper cools, however, as he feels Morty's soft breaths pulsing against him. He drops his gaze and looks at the blissful expression on Morty's face. He sighs softly, a pained smile splitting his lips. Then again, he is the only one to give the boy peace. The only one to care in the slightest. So Rick gives up the fight. Even if only to thin air he breathes, "I love you more."

**So what did you think? I am in love with it and am probably going to reread it right this second. The icing on top of the cake would be to have a picture to go with it. Yeeeeah. And in case you didn't get it 'him' is King Jellybean. Please review!**


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